
Class 
Book 





A COMPLETE CUTTER. ..(warranted steel.. 



Printed by D. Long W OTt h , Ncu 

FOR O, C GREENLEAF, BO' 






^zL^K: 



THE 

CUTTER, 

IN 

jTibe 5Lecture# 

UPON 

THE ART AND PRACTICE 

OF 

C U T T I N G 

FRIENDS, ACQUAINTANCES, 

AND 

RELATIONS. 

Fungor vice cotis. hor. 

Quid das, ut Cossum aliquando salutes, 
Ut te respiciat clauso Veiento labello. jui? 3 

BOSTON : 

PRINTED AT THE EMERALD PRESS, C3URT STRIIT 3 
BY E. G. HOUSE, 



1808, 



-Pi 






v 3 



£« 






LECTURES UPON CUTTING? 

WHEREIN 

THAT ART 
IS MADE EASY TO EVERY CAPACITY. 



CONTENTS. 




LECTURE 


PAGE 


I. Introduction and Definitions 


7 


II. Art of * cutting* Acquaintances - 


15 


HI. Art of * cutting 9 Friends - - - 


49 


IV. Art of € cutting 9 Relations » - 


65 


V. First Lines for the Ladies - • 


8S 



HINTS TO AUTHORS 



BY WAV o> 



PREFACE. 



A 2 



I 



HINTS TO AUTHORS. 



TO CUT A REVIEWER. 

1. 

Write your book in that happy strain 
of mediocrity, which is a certain pass- 
port to the dust and cobwebs. 

2. 
Interlard it with metaphysical hy- 
potheses, and let a bald Scotticism now 
and then peer above a surface of unin- 
teresting materials. 



4 THE CUTTER. 

3. 

Write so much, and in sc lumber- 
ing a style, that you would defy any man 
of German patience to wade through 
half a dozen pages. 

4. 
Tell your reader all about, and about 
it, after the manner of our antiquated 
divines j or follow the example of some 
illustrious moderns, whose works with a 
copious index might serve for an Ency- 
clopaedia. 



Deprecate the wrath of Reviewers in 
a pretty advertisement ; or throw an 
offal to Cerberus in a meek and adula- 
tory note. 



THE CUTTER. 5 

6. 

If it be possible, write of matters in- 
accessible to young-gentlemen-critics, 
explaining the true angle of the mouth 
in pronouncing the proparoxutonos, de- 
termining the three great questions in 
sciomachiology, or illustrating the neg- 
lected biography of Darapti, Felapton, 
Disamis, Datisi, Bocardo, Ferison. 

7. 
Beware of tours, travels, translations, 
and new editions, and let all your poetical 
effusions be entitled " Juvenile Poems." 

8. 
Always speak respectfully of book- 



6 THE CUTTER. 

sellers, never forgetting that the pup- 
pets do not dance of themselves. 

9. 
To cut the dry, deep, and saturnine 
criticism of a senior li^ciple of Aris- 
tarchus, engage with your printer for 
a sharp diminutive type, on a super- 
fine, wire-wove, glossy paper < by which 
means the keen optics of this literary 
falcon must inevitably be rendered some- 
what obtuse after the perusal of half a 
page, and the reversion of a distracting 
headach be unalienably secured. 



LECTURE I. 



INTRODUCTION AND DEFINITIONS, 



LECTURE I. 

It is no less strange than certain, that 
among ail the maxims of heathen eti- 
quette, and among all the social and 
moral precepts of the most enlightened 
nations now existing, there are none, 
which ascertain the proper periods for 
knowing, or for slighting the same ac- 
quaintance ; for caressing, or for over- 
looking the same friend ; for counte- 
nancing, or for neglecting the same rela- 
tion. These are among the minutiae, the 
niceties of social intercourse, which were 
left for later moralists, and politicians to 

B 



10 THE CUTTER. 

discover ; and in the observance of 
which, it is probable no age will ever ex- 
ceed the present, no nation the English. 
Amidst all the productions of modern 
genius, and all the beautiful offsprings 
of the press, it is truly lamentable, that 
on this subject no splendid treatise 
has yet smiled upon the public. To 
supply such a deficiency in British litera- 
ture, and to promote the improvement 
of British manners, is the object of the 
following Lectures. Plain as they will 
be to all ranks and capacities, and neces- 
sary as the art which they teach, is be- 
come to every man, who would aspire 
to the enviable title of a finished gentle- 
fMttf they are now consigned to the 
public service, and recommended to the 






THE CUTTER. 11 

particular attention of all unpractised fa- 
milies, and inexperienced votaries of the 
beau monde. 

To begin, then, (as every thing didac- 
tic should begin,) from the beginning, let 
us first give a definition of the term 
6 cutting ,' or, more properly, of a c cut, 9 
in the metaphorical sense conferred upon 
it by the fashionable world. A c cut 9 is 
the intentional slighting, or overlooking, of 
any one connected with us, either by ac- 
quaintance, friendship, or relation. It 
must be intentional, or it degenerates 
into accidental inadvertence, to which all 
are more or less subject. Nor is it only 
the overlooking of our connexions, that 
constitutes a c cut.' To notice, and de- 
signedly to slight them, is equally c cuU 



12 THE CUTTER. 

ting. 9 By the remaining part of the de- 
finition, we anticipate the division of 
the subject, viz. the method of ' cutting, 9 

1st, Acquaintances, r\ e. those known 
to us by introduction, accident, or ne- 
cessity. 

2dly, Friends, u e. those for whom 
we have professed a regard. 

3dly, Relatives, /. e. those numerous 
alliances, which are intailed upon us by 
consanguinity and affinity. 

From what has been said, it will be 
easily understood, that the c cutter 9 sig- 
nifies the agent, or inflictor, of a c cut ; % 
and that by the c cuttee 9 is meant he, on 
whom the cut is made. A c dead cut 9 or 
to c cut dead J is that most effectual me- 
thod of cuttings which cannot fail to 



THE CUTTER. 13 

make the cuttee perfectly sensible of it ; 
as, for instance, to stare him full in the 
face, vAth a look partaking of indifference 
and contempt, and, as he approaches 
with a countenance of conciliating humil- 
ity, to turn on your heel and seek for 
amusement on the other side of the way ; 
or to pass him without so much as a nod 
of recognition. Other species of cuts 
will be described in their proper places. 
It would be a superfluous and imper- 
tinent task to insist upon the various ad- 
vantages of the art of cutting in this place* 
as they will become more manifest from 
every succeeding page of these Lectures. 
Nojc will it, we dare say, be deemed ne- 
cessary to observe, that the precepts, ac- 
companying each of the four last, do 
b 2 



14- rHS CUTTER. 

not, indeed cannot, prescribe the con- 
duct to be pursued under all possible cir- 
cumstances- The initiated will easily 
apply them to particular situations, or, 
judging at length for themselves, 

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, 
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art. 



LECTURE II. 



ART OF CUTTING ACQUAINTANCES. 



LECTURE II. 

One of the greatest bores (to adopt the 
emphatic phraseology of those, to whom 
we would be understood more immediate- 
ly to address ourselves), one of the great- 
est bores of our old national manners con- 
sisted in being obliged to recognize, on 
all occasions, men known to us merely 
through the clash of social intercourse ; 
men, into whose acquaintance we were 
thrust by others, by chance, by neces- 
sity. We are at length, however, rising 
superior to such ceremonious prejudices, 
and it is thought high time to burst the 



18 THE CUTTER. 

shackles of an antiquated and slavish po- 
liteness. We live in an age of mental 
and corporeal liberty. We assert the 
sublime privileges of our nature. It is 
with justice, therefore, that it has been 
established as a golden maxim of modern 
good-breeding, " that we should never 
incommode ourselves purely out of com- 
pliment and courtesy to others ;" and 
" that where civility and our own feelings, 
or interest, take opposite parties, we ought 
invariably to side with the latter. " Cato 
might consider himself " born for the 
whole world :" and as a sentence for 
posterity, the thing sounds well enough. 
But we can aver, that the more our feel- 
ings centre in ourselves, the less open 
we shall be to the mortifying compunc- 



THE CUTTER. 19 

tions of what has been called politeness* 
We are advocates for an unqalified in- 
dependence, an individual self-sufficiency 
in society, which may render us secure 
from the obtrusive familiarity of all our 
connections, and make them aware, that 
their attentions are pleasant, only when 
we want them. As, however, on this 
topic all are unanimous, the following 
precepts may be offered as enforcing the 
sentiments already delivered, and as 
tending in no small degree to render 
the art of cutting acquaintances easy 
and delightful to the meanest capacity, 

1. 

It might be an insult to your un« 
derstauding to urge in these Lectures so 



TTER. 



obvious a caution, as never to notice 
acquaintances, unless they are rich, well- 
dressed, or in good company. Those 
of a contrary description, however, will 
be found very prone to intrude their 
meanness into the sunshine of your ob- 
servation : and on such occasions you 
may call in to your assistance that most 
salutary remedy the c cut poignant,' 
which may be applied as follows : damp 
their assurance by measuring them deli- 
berately from head to foot with an ob- 
lique glance, and by exclaiming at the 
same time, in an abrupt manner, " Oh ! 
Mr. Thomas Nokes, I presume ;" or, 
M I believe your name is Stiles ;" always 
taking care to mistake the one for the 
other. This precept may admit of an 



THE CUTTER. 21 

infringement, where there are no wit- 
nesses of your condescension* 

2. 

If you expect to meet a shabby ac- 
quaintance in a party of high life y and 
choice spirits, take care to cut him dead 
in the streets some day or days before, 
that he may learn a proper distance at 
your interview amidst company. To ef- 
fect this with a good grace, it is often 
desirable to be supplied with a pair of 
spectacles. These defensive weapons 
are almost indispensable in the accom- 
plished * cutter. 9 They form an excel- 
lent pretext, and are no less capable, 
than great wigs and ill-shaped hats 5 of 
lessening that appearance of heaviness 



22 THE CUTTER. 

and vacancy, which now and then stare 
out of the faces of the most dignified, as 
well as of the most fashionable characters. 

3. 
If you have received obligations from 
an unfortunate acquaintance, whom 
you would cut as he approaches face to 
face, it may be of service to blow your 
nose, look at your boots, or, if your 
feelings will support you under an act 
of such vulgarity, to contemplate the 
articles for sale, which challenge the 
gaping inspection of citizens and coun- 
try gentlemen, in a neighbouring win- 
dow. When these methods are not 
likely to succeed, with a sudden effort 
grope every pocket in your clothes, roll 



THE CUTTER. 2S 

your eyes in a kind of momentary dis- 
traction, and shaking with some vehe- 
mence a head which could forget a thing 
of so much consequence, turn your whole 
body to what military men call 'the 
<c right about/ 5 and make a joyful re- 
treat through the perilous defiles of al- 
leys, courts, and winding passages. 
This is the cut direct. Men unac- 
quainted with the world may call it pride, 
ingratitude, and the like : — all which 
you may impute to their ignorance* 

4. 

If you are riding on horseback, 
and would cut an acquaintance^ whom 
you might perhaps condescend to notice in 
a lane, give your eyes a direction parallel 



-4 THE CUTTER. 

tb the two sides of the street , or turn your 
body obliquely to the opposite side of tbi 
horse, and examining very closely the 
parts adjacent to the hoof look seriously, 
as if you suspected lameness, or the grease. 

5. 

When in company with the duchess 
of G. or D. if any malignant sprite should 
conjure up in your presence an acquaint- 
ance whom it would be degrading your- 
self to notice ; with an inclined body, 
looking her full in the face, and leaving 
room for your acquaintance to pass, tell 
her a story of a cock and bull, or a good 
thing said by a peer of thi realm. Under 
such circumstances it cannot be ex- 
pected,- that you should interrupt Her 



THE CUTTER. £5 

Grace's attention by an untimely nod to 
your plebeian intimates. 

6. 
Always cut recruiting officers, and 
men of an itinerant profession, who will 
otherwise haunt your house like rats, 
and leave it only upon the first symptoms 
of a ruin. 

7. 
Should you have a poor acquaint- 
ance, who is a wit, a good singer, a great 
traveller, or, in a word, a man, who can 
enliven the conversation of a knowing 
party, it will not be amiss to call upon 
him a few days before you want him, 
and to express a cold astonishment that 



26 THE CUTTER. 

he never visits you. If he be bold enough 
to retort this astonishment, you may ob- 
serve in a mincing voice, that his house 
is most unfortunately situated, that it is 
too far for a walk, and too near for a 
ride. After this, you may remind him 
with an affected friendship, that if he can 
bear a plain dinner, and a bottle of M hum- 
ble port," your table will always supply 
him with that, and a hearty welcome. In 
general, when you make such profes- 
sions, never specify a day. At present, 
however, his company is absolutely ne- 
cessary ; and you must avail yourself of 
the first opportunity to intimate to the 
party, that you use him as our ancestors 
used their jesters and jugglers, to kill 
the time, to drive away the spleen, or, 









THE CUTTER. 27 

if you please to be facetious, to dispel 
the ideas of bailiffs and executions, which 
sometimes harrow the minds of great 
men. > 

8. 
And here let me apprize you, that 
there are methods of cutting, even at a 
distance. Letters are either congratu- 
latory, expostulatory, promissory, nuga- 
tory, interrogatory, declamatory, ex- 
planatory, admonitory, or peremptory. 
Now it is often expedient and salutary, 
that none of these should come to hand, 
and more particularly the last, whenever 
they are prefaced with an L. s. d. 
Such letters have often not a little of 
the properties of the torporific eel, and, 



28 THE CUTTEF. 

if possible, it is always desirable to cut 
them decide that the shock may not be 
repeated. 

9. 

If you have risen by a vulgar trade 
or profession into something like conse- 
quence, never fail to exhibit all the airs 
of a man of real dignity*. To this end, 
forget, I mean, act as if you forgot, all 
those, to whom you are in any manner 
indebted for your present greatness ; and 
those, with whom you were intimate dur- 
ing your station between drawers, and a 



-" Tanquam 



Feceris ipse aliquid, propter quod nobilis esses. 1 
" As if you ow'd your plaited shirt 
To something more, than grease and dirt," 



THE CUTTER. 29 

counter. Unless you adopt this meas- 
ure, you may sometimes be disgusted 
by low allusions to that now most odious 
of all abominable things, a shop. Re- 
member, that now you have acquired a 
fortune, nothing more is wanting, than 
the slight appendage of family and merit, 
to render you truly noble. This will be 
allowed by the most scrupulous. But 
in the eyes of men of the world riches 
can dispense with these two additions, 
or rather, indeed, can supply the place of 
them. Only persuade yourself of this, 
and you will instantly see the necessity 
of commanding a servile attention from 
the abject herd, out of which you 
sprung, by cutting constantly and se- 
verely. Such conduct on your part will 



SO THE CUTTER. 

induce a conviction in the cuttee, that he 
certainly must have overlooked your me- 
rits, while you were heretofore his equal. 
It was a friendly admonition given long 
ago to persons of your description, to 



u Forget the dunghills, whence they grew, 
And think themselves — the Lord knows who.' 






These lines contain a metaphor highly 
expressive of the thriving nature of trade, 
and of the gross filth, which you have 
fortunately relinquished. You cannot 
do better than to commit them to mem- 
ory, and ruminate much upon the 
valuable instruction, which they contain. 
Allied to the advice here given you, is 
the inference to be deduced from that 
beautiful apologue of the pot and kettle, 



THE CUTTER. SI 

of which It has been said, " what agree- 
ment is there between them ?" True it 
is, in the spirit of this fable, you were 
once pots, and could not associate with 
ketifes : . but now, let it be remembered, 
you are become kettles, (happy meta« 
morphosis !) and cannot associate with 
pots* ! 

* Modest worth enriched by long and honest 
industry is far beyond the reach of sarcasm. But 
Fortune is a goddess as eccentric in her operations 
as Nature. While we smile at the frequently rldi« 
culous deviations of Nature from her general 
course, we are often inclined to express our indig- 
nation at those, whom sudden or ill-placed wealth 
has justled into a conspicuous situation only to 
make them objects of contempt from actual mean- 
ness and profligacy. The first of these have been 
Galled * Lusus Nature ;' and I conceive, these 



92 THE CUTTER. 






10. 

It is generally advisable to give your 
female acquaintances the \ dead cut^ and 
to apologize when reproached with it^ 
by an asseveration, that you mistook 
them for others confessedly preferable to 
them in face and figure. This soothing 
balsam will prove a specific in cases 
where the cutter is furnished with spec- 
tacles. 

latter phenomena in society (now, however, be- 
coming less singular) may with equal propriety be 
denominated ' Lustu Fortune ;' 

" Cum sint 

Quales ex humili magna ad fastigia rerum 
Exiollit, quotieo voluit Fort una jocari." 



Men kick'd from shores to honour's peak 
By madam Fortune in a freak. 






THE CUTTER, gj 

11. 

In order to exact a proper respect from 
the poor nobles and bankrupt peers, who 
will assiduously do homage to your din- 
ners, it will be requisite now and then 
to relieve their usual torpor by a cut dU 
rect, or poignant, as may best suit the 
constitution of the patient. Above all 
things, on every occasion be sure to play 
the old Castilian. Shew as little pliancy 
as the crocodile or alligator j and, like 
a true Persian, never expose your head 
to the cold by an abject removal of your 
turban. Let it not once enter your 
brain, that their affections will be alien- 
ated, Like a well-known burr of anti- 

D 



;U i ml c 

quity, they will continue to sing the old 
sung, 

" * Nil habi-o quod again, ct non sum piger, 
usque sequar te.' 1 
Always alert, with nothing dse to do, 
*T\\ ill give me pleasure, Sir, to follow you. 

12. 

To cut a dun, who is an acquaintance 
by necessity, every kind of stratagem 
and circumspection must be employed. 
Should he presume to stop you in the 

y' 

* In the amusing satire from which I 
made the above quotation, Horace has given u? a 
lively picture of his total ignorance in the art of 
cutting. In these days every man is a Bollanus, 
and needs not the shifts and evasions of the em- 
barrassed poet.- 



THE CUTTER. „ 35 

streets, bid him call at your house in the 
course of the day, and instantly engage 
yourself to dine with a friend, or lie in- 
cog, at a chophouse. If he should find 
you at home, than which nothing can 
be more unfashionable, indulge him 
with a lively description of the Bra- 
zils, or of the failure of your crops 
in Yorkshire, over a bottle of the best, 
u e* the best your poor credit can obtain 
from the importunate vintner. Only 
persuade him to taste one bottle, and for 
the present you are secure. It will 
operate, like salt upon the sucking 
leech, by making him for a time forsake 
his hold. When, however, he is very* 
obstreperous, it will be of service to talk 
c>f instalments ; and to begin, you may 



*6 THE CUTTER. 

sell him the filley, that broke her wind at 
Ascot Heath, quite a bargain. But on 
this difficult branch of the art allow me 
to refer you for further instruction to a 
late Treasurer of the Navy, who is justly 
considered as cne of the greatest profi- 
cients this country ever produced. 

10 

When'you are making the grand toup> 
it is right to inquire, what Englishmen re- 
side in every place, where you intend to 
make any stay. This information being 
obtained, you have only to get introduced 
to them, and you may depend upon the 
native benevolence and hospitality of 
your countrymen for the rest. They will 
instantly shew you the 4 lions 9 of the 



THE CUTTER. 37 

■place, give you instructions for your con- 
duct, and lend you their horses, car* 
riages, or houses, as may best suit your 
convenience. The wisest plan, on these 
occasions, is to avail yourself of all their 
proffered kindness ; more especially, if 
there is any hope of your condescension 
not being divulged at home. Accept 
every invitation, go uninvited, when no- 
thing better offers,- — drink the last bottle, 
eat the last joint, — ^borrow the last 
guinea, — 'and remember to profess ever- 
lasting friendship to the whole house- 
hold. This you will find to be a very 
useful system ; and whether you melt at 
Naples, or freeze at Archangel, it will 
give a delightful zest to the inconvenlr 
ences of a water or over-land convey- 
d 2 



38 THE CUTTER. 

ance. So much for your English friends 
in foreign countries. But as such per- 
sons are resident abroad generally on ac- 
count of their health, their commercial 
connexions, or the discharge of some 
political function, it is possible they may 
at some future period return to their 
mother-country, and from want of good 
breeding, or, which is the same thing, 
from ignorance, may make advances to 
recognition from you. In such cases 
if the fellow has been a good creature, 
allow him at a distance to cherish the 
pleasing remembrance of your humilit 
and affability abroad, until he may pre- 
sume to make up to you with an impu- 
dent air of familiarity, when you must 
* cuf him as follows : turn to your friend ^ 





e 

i 



' 



THE CUTTER* 39 

(for you cannot with propriety walk 
alone) ; and, with a face of courteous in- 
quiry, say, " Who the devil have we 
here ?" If in return he should imprur 
dently mention his name, now no longer 
useful to you, with a slow pronuncia- 
tion, yet loud enough to be heard, you 
can exclaim, * € Oh ! 'pon my soul, I re* 
collect ; he gave d — d good dinners at 
St. Petersburgh !" Then, taking a con- 
trary direction, proceed to get your own 
dinner— where you can, 

14. 
In the university, it is probable, that 
your acquaintances will consist of per- 
sons junior as well as senior to you in 
standing. As soon, therefore, as you 



A\) THE CUTTER. 

havj passed with much difficulty to a 
change of gown, through the fiery or- 
deal of the schools ; or, when your Alma 
Mater, from a want of confidence in 
your materials, shall have conferred a 
degree upon you ' honoris causa ;' 
will find it inconsistent with your dignity 
to retain any of the former for your as- 
sociates, particularly those, who are come 
up, for the first time since their matri- 
culation, from the country (where you 
can be very intimate,) unless they have 
the forcible recommendation of gold, or 
velvet. Now in cutting these junior ac- 
quaintances, you have only to pass them 
with your arms a-kimbo, and the insig- 
nia of your new honours dangling from 
your elbow ; and should they give any 



THE CUTTJ? E. 41 

tokens of intimacy, either swing your 
tassel so as to hide your face from them, 
or, with a blinking stare, observe to your 
companions upon their awkward gait, 
and the great influx of freshmen during 
the term. 

15. 

At a fashionable watering-place (as it 
is called), where the paucity of genteel 
visitors may scarcely save you from your 
own reflections, make all the acquaint- 
ances you can j take the lead in their 
routs, drums, and coteries ,-*— ride out 
with the female part of the family on 
the beach, or downs,— -and lay yourself 
under all the obligations, of which the 
time of your stay will admit. All this, 



42 [1 ( UTTER. 

you will perceive, must serve to render 
your visit to such place (and you can- 
not be fashionable without visiting them,) 
somewhat supportable. On your return 
to town, however, you must bid adieu 
to all vulgar recollections : — and there- 
fore, when you meet any of these good 
folks from Brighton or Weymomth, du- 
ring your lounge in Bond Street or St. 
James's, you must cut them obliquely, 
appearing at the same time as little ac- 
quainted with them, as though the] 
a tribe of Chicasaws, or Aihapuscow 
Indians. 

16. 

Because it may have been your tate to 
have tumbled, as it were, by accid- 



THE CUTTER. 43 

into the press, and to have drawn down 
upon yourself the invidious sarcasms of a 
man, who has nibbled his nails in vain, 
and who is as yet not sufficiently con- 
vinced of his own inferiority, you will 
find the best revenge for the wound in- 
flicted upon your literary feelings, to be 
a mortifying c cut 9 of the following de- 
scription. Discover his haunts among 
the booksellers ; and, lying in ambush in 
some corner of inglorious authors, fo- 
ment your indignation over the pam- 
phlet or review, which contains the mi- 
nutes of your anathema. As he will not 
fail to reconnoitre the spot, before he 
settles to feed, you must allow him, after 
he has entered the shop, to smooth his 
feathers, and to flap a few pages of the 



44 THE CUTTER. 

hot-press publications, which serve as a 
decoy in the most conspicuous part 
of the room, or counter. You may now 
take an opportunity of walking up to 
him with a ghastly grin, and extended 
nostril. Take care, when you approach 
him, to advance in such a manner, that 
at length the peripheries of your chins 
and paunches may come in clashing con- 
tact. When this has been effected, ele- 
vate to a height equal to the required im- 
petus, the whole force of your left leg, 
and let the os calcis or convexity of your 
heel fall perpendicularly, close to the 
smaller toes of your enemy. At the 
same instant let the ferrule of your cane 
threaten to crush one of those on the 
opposite foot. Then turning on youp 



THE CUTTER. 45 

heel, thrust your hand carelessly under 
the skirt of your coat behind, and expose 
a due proportion of the hemisphere, 
which it conceals. After this, you may 
return to your corner, and mutter some- 
thing in this manner — ■ 

T0$ &X.VS h KjlTMoi's) &C. &C. &C. 

with an affectionate adieu, like the fol- 
lowing, 

EppST^j Ik yap 01 (p^vccg uhsro iturtera, 7^v$* 

17- 

While you are as yet inexperienced in 

the art, it will be right, as far as in you 

lies, to avoid being c cut 5 yourself. If 

then you discover, that accident has led 



mi: com l 

m into the acquaintance of a man of 
the following description, you may de 
pend upon it, he is more than your 
equal, and must therefore be ' cut 9 
immediately. A thorough-bred c cutter 
has a countenance generally marked by 
a semicircular wrinkle extending froi 
the corner of his nose quite beneath hk 
lower lip. His nostrils are elevated, and 
his eyebrows lower than nature de- 
signed them. Hi<; smiles betray more of 
contempt, than delight, and are assumed 
for the most part, when you expect him 
to be serious. This induces those around 
him to imagine his smiles levelled at 
them j and whenever such a conscious- 
ness becomes visible, the c cutter' exul 
in his heart, and swells with a su id - : 



THE CUTTER. 47 

sense of his superiority. Upon meet- 
ing an acquaintance, he takes occasion, 
during a short, and, on his part, mono- 
syllabic conversation, to measure him 
from head to foot ; after which he looks 
cautiously on every side, to see that no 
one observes him in such company. 
When he finds it convenient to converse, 
he is sure to talk of things above him, 
or which do not concern him. Of one 
he inquires, " how his hunter turns out ?" 
but soon recollecting himself, insult- 
ingly adds, " Oh, I forgot, you do not 
keep a horse." To another he observes, 
that he was just going to call upon him, and 
begs that he will consider it as a call, be- 
cause he must go instantly to TattersalFs, 
where he has appointed a man to meet hira 



48 THE CUTTER. 

about a bit of horseflesh. In a large com- 
pany, he whispers of Lords, Bishops, and 
Generals — bets upon the Chicken — dis- 
courses of splints and spavins — tells an 
anecdote of his gold snuff-box — asks for 
an Army List or British Peerage — and 
seriously professes the highest respect for 
the sense and integrity of a man of rank, 
his particular friend, whom, the whole* 
party is well convinced, not a soul living 
would condescend to notice but for his 
nobility. 

" Hie nigcr est ! — hunc tu Romane caveto ! ,f 

" This man avoid, in « cutting' deeply read, 
And, lest yourself be ■ cut,' first c cut him dead.' 






LECTURE III. 



AWT OF CUTTING FRIENDS. 



E 2 



LECTURE Hi. 

In treatment of friends, the subject 
next to be considered, much delicacy is 
requisite ; for nothing can be more re- 
fined than the texture of modern friend- 
ship. Although as common as the air, 
it is likewise as subtle in its constituent 
parts. Like the air too, it embraces 
the whole world, without attaching itself 
exclusively to single individuals. En- 
dued with feelings of the most tender 
sensibility, and actuated by the most ex- 
tensive benevolence and philanthropy, 
it is seen at one time weeping from the 



VllE CVTTLR. 

anticipation of misfortune, and at another 
time rejoicing at the removal of even 
imaginary calamities. 

Among the great and affluent, friend- 
ship rests upon the most noble basis. To 
prove this, only observe with what dis- 
gust they receive applications for pecu- 
niary assistance from men whom they 
condescend to patronize, and ennoble 
with the sacred name of friends. At the 
60und of the word - money,' the charm is 
broken, and all the delightful visions of 
patronage make them solves wings. For 
who can press to his bosom a poor friend, 
whose affections are set upon filthy lucre, 
and who wishes rather ro be admitted 
ur pocket, than to your heart? 
Those, who praise the days of their 



THE CUTTER. 53 

youth, say, that every thing is facti- 
tious in the friendships of the present 
day. Nothing, however, can be more 
easily confuted, than such an assertion. 
Does not the very nature of a rout, and, 
conversazione, overturn such a position, 
the social intercourse of cards, and the 
lavish profusion of tea? What can be 
more friendly than an invitation to meet 
a whole city ? Who, without a heart of 
steel, can overlook the affectionate cards 
of repeated calls with the kindest in- 
quiries ? Is it factitious friendship to 
nod, and smile, and squeeze the hand ? 
Can any thing be more sincere, than the 
reposing in the breast of a friend, the 
errors of the peccant great, or the slan- 
ders of the upstart vulgar ? What more 



54 THE CUTTKR. 

rous, than to make friendship coe- 
val with acquaintance ? As no man at the 
exit day believs the stale stories of 
a Pylades and Orestes, of a Damon and 
Pythias, of a Patroclus and Achilles, and 
the many friendly couplets of old and 
modern essays, we need not trouble 
ourselves with drawing comparisons. 
The close texture of such romantic 
friendships, as left to us on record, is a 
sufficient reason with the man of the 
world to doubt their existence. He sees 
nothing in human nature to support it. 
He knows that 

"The earth hath bubbles as the water has, 
And these are of them." 

He has learnt that friends are like fish, 
rnos; valuable when fresh ; and that 



THE CUTTER. 55 

therefore self-interest, convenience, nay, 
propriety, may render it necessary to 
cut an old friend ; and necessity has no 
Jaws, 

By an old friend is meant one, who 
shared your marbles at school, who took 
the punishment of your faults, saved 
you from the gibbet by his counsel, and 
through a sense of your integrity would 
hazard his life and fortune in your in- 
terest. As, however, such friends as 
these may at length become heavy and 
insipid appurtenances, it is sometimes 
useful to consign them to the fate of the 
fleas, that infest the fox, who, when he 
finds more of them on his person than 
are either useful or ornamental, by an 
unexpected plunge into the water sets 



THE CUTTER. 



the whole parasitical tribe afloat. It re- 
mains, then, to shew how and whe: 
this is practicable. For this purpose 
we have annexed the following precepts. 



: 



If you are ashamed to acknowledge a 
poor, and, in some measure, dependent 
friend in a party, ball, or rout, cat him 
for the whole evening ; and, calling upon 
him next morning, tell him how anxious 
you were to have introduced him to a 
very valuable acquaintance, but that you 
could not catch his eye ; that you were 
engaged in a most agreeable party, 
which you could not leave ; and as to 
the rest, that you were extremely sorry 
to see him at the other end of the room. 



THE CUTTER. 57 

Ee not afraid of affronting him. He 
carries a saving discretion about him* 
which will always whisper in such cases,, 



-" Tu cede potentis amici 



Lenibus imperils .;" 

or, in other words, if you think proper 
to be offended, you must go and live, 
like a Kamschatka bear in winter, by 
sucking your paws for a subsistence. 

2 
Should your friend be on the point of 
making up to you in an elegant assem- 
blage of the beau-monde, your only re- 
source is the following stratagem. With 
a Sardonian smile, and a signal with the 
iiand for him to retreat, wink your eye, 

F 



THE CUTTER. 

as if you had an excellent joke on fool, 
and instantly address some female ac- 
quaintance on the inclemency of the 
weather, scarcity of pretty women, or a 
receipt for tooth-powder. After this, 
wait until your friend is at a safe and re- 
spectful distance, then give him another 
significant wink ; and he must leave you 
to enjoy your security. 

2. 

Be ever ready to receive reproaches 
for cutting your friends. With this 
view arm yourself at all points with sen- 
tences of respect, and esteem, and af- 
fection, and honour, and confidence, and 
all the warmest expressions of modern 
sincerity. Appear wounded to the 






THE CUTTFH. 59 

by his distrust of you ; say, that you 
never gave him reason to harbour even 
the suspicion of a slight, that 



■ ■ — The friendships of the world are oft 

Confed'racjes in vice, or leagues of pleasure : 
Tours has severest virtue for its basis, 
And such a friendship ends not, but with life. 



4. 

When in company with your supe- 
riors, no rupture will ensue between 
you, if you treat him as a bare acquaint- 
ance. Should you be observed to notice 
him^ and it is asked—" Who is that fel- 
low ?" you may wash your hands of the 
infamy of knowing him y by remarking 
after some time for recollection^ that yon 



GO THE CUTTFR. 

believe you bought a pointer, or dog-cart, 
or curricle of him. 



At a select party, it is sometimes of 
service to have a head-ach or a fit of the 
vapours, in order to get rid of the im- 
portunities of a particular, but penny- 
less friend. Or, if he is solicitous that 
you should give him consequence by les- 
sening your own, you may be suddenly 
seized by that disorder, which attacked 
Sir John Falstaff, when the Lord Chief 
Justice would have censured him pretty 
roundly, viz. " the disease of not listen- 
ing, the malady of not marking. " 

6. 
If your friend is conscious of any of 



THE CUTTER. 61 

your crimes, cut him at the length of a 
whole street, and avoid him as you would 
the plague. Always give him the char- 
acter of an enormous liar, and send 
him now and then a softening present. 
When, however, any vexatious accident 
obliges you to confront him, shake him 
tenderly by the hand, and in a Portu- 
guese phrase tell him, " that you were 
dying with impatience to see him/* 

7. 
I need not say, that you will be some- 
times obliged to receive him at your 
table among a crowd of illustrious vi- 
sitors. Under such affecting circum- 
stances, remove him as far from you as 
possible, and let him enjoy the splen- 

f 2 



62 THE CUTTER. 

dour to which he is admitted, without 
any chance of spoiling your dinner by an 
untimely effort to talk at you. He can 
be by no means a well-bred friend, who 
does not soon learn, that a maintenance 
is the fruit of a great friendship, that an 
access to your table is a security to his 
creditors, and that nothing but your 
smiles withold him from a cell, and fet- 
ters. Under such impressions, he will 
never expect you to address him with 
the tone of equality in a circle of stran- 
gers. It is to the shrine of Fortune that 
such a tribute is due. What liberties 
might he not take, if you complimentec 
him with such speeches, as, 



THE CUTTTEIU 63 

" Da Trebio, pone ad Trebium, vis frater ab 

istis 
Ilibus ?" 

Dear Harry ! leave your beef, and taste of that — i 
Oh ! 'tis a lovely haunch, with most delicious 
fat. 

But as yet (we owe it to the omnipotence 
of wealth and titles,) the ranks of so- 
ciety are not so confounded. 

The corollaries, which it is in the 
power of every one to draw from the 
foregoing precepts, make it unnecessary 
to enlarge the present Lecture. 



LECTURE IV, 



ART OF CUTTING RELATIONS, 



LECTURE IV. 



It may perhaps create no small surprise* 
that, after dwelling upon the methods of 
treating friends and acquaintances, I 
should take the pains to prescribe rules 
for cutting the common and insipid con- 
nexions, which necessity has imposed 
upon us. But I am induced to do this, in 
order, if possible, to discountenance the 
absurd practice of some few, and those 
of genteel habits of life, who seem es> 
tremely tender of theiF relatives, and, 
froru the want vi 'a- finished education f 



61 THE CUTTER. 

often ^mean themselves by an exces- 
sive attend : to them. They pretend 
to urge the sui,j o stion6 and obligations 
of nature and religion. What " man 
of the world" ever heard of such jar- 
gon ? Let me ask, are not voluntary at- 
tachments most pleasing, useful, and 
permanent ? Is it not proverbial, that he 
who has many relations, has few friends ? 
Do not relatives shew more officious 
ness, and ill nature, and take great 
liberties, than any other connexions ? An 
they not a continual thorn in the sides 
of great men ? Are they not a perpetual 
source of mortification to the elegant 
and more refined part of the world ? 
To you, gentlemen, I need not waste 
t\me in proving truths so self-evident 



is- 

: 






THE CUTTER, 69 

Allow me then to say, that, in general, 
they are the best subjects for cutting. 
Indeed it may with propriety be recom- 
mended to the young practitioner to 
begin his experiments on them ; for they 
will be found to bear any thing. 

By men of fashionable sentiments and 
\ polished behaviour, relatives should be 
considered as articles of dress, which 
convenience, caprice, or change of wea- 
ther, may incline them to wear, or to 
lay aside. What can be more dissonant 
to reason, what more cruel or inhuman 
in the very idea, than to assert, that any 
man, possessed of a wardrobe, is obliged 
by nature or religion, to put on an old 
pair of 46 looped and windowed" breedheSj 
when he visits, his superiors, or eveji 



?0 THE CU n BR. 



when the wind or rain may threaten him 

with colds and rheumatisms ? It matters 
not, how fondly he once loved them, or 
still likes them, in the recesses of his 
own closet. It avails little to the argu- 
ment, that they fit easily, that the) 
conduce in a wonderful manner to per- 
sonal comfort, or that they have sparec 
his better apparel. 

The same reasoning is applicable tc 
relatives. If they are blest with riches 
or interest, who will ever object to pay 
them all possible attention ? But what 
returns can counterbalance the obstacles 
togreat prefermanentand rising ambition, 
consequent upon noticing persons of 
low circumstances and situations, becaire 
they Were ushered into a world of wants 



THE CUTTER. 71 

by those, whom society has kindly deno- 
minated my relations ? Yet it is object- 
ed, that they have claims upon me, be- 
cause we both carry the same blood in 
our veins. This mode of reasoning, 
however, might exculpate an Irishman 
for not removing from his prolific per- 
son certain familiar little insects remark- 
able for their philanthropy. 

In colonial settlements, and in coun- 
tries of scanty population, it may be de- 
sirable to call to mind, who are more im- 
mediately entitled to our intimacy and 
good offices by kindred or connexion, 
for the purposes of intercourse and mu- 
tual benefit. But in this country, where 
| reason has usurped a sovereign sway, 
and where the restraints of moral obliga- 



72 THE CUTTLR. 

tion are broken down by a resistless 
spirit of refinement, who would be weak 
enough to incommode and degrade 
themselves by a familiarity with relatives, 
whose fortune is inferior to their own, 
who are never spoken of in the first 
circles^ and who, from their establish* 
ment^ must be classed among the raffs 
of society ? 

In a word, convenience will be the 
best guide in the conduct to be pursued 
towards persons of this description ; anc 
the precepts already delivered respecting 
the treatment of acquaintances, are 
equally applicable to them, with thi 
caution, that greater care and delicac) 
are requisite in the cutting of any other 
connections, than of relatives. As illus* 



THE CUTTER, 



trative of our meaning, the following 
practical maxims will be found worthy 
of notice. 

1. 

In cutting a relation shabbily dressed, 
of low credit, and very importunate, it 
is necessary not only to ' cut him dead* 
but with the head slightly turned over 
the shoulder, a knowing application of 
your glass with one hand, and a gentle 
twirl of your stick with the other, to 
put in action that muscle, which anato- 
mists call " levator labii superioris, alas- 
que nasi," or, that which raises the upper 
lip, and one wing of the nose. This is 
tailed the cut oblique ^ and is considered 
g 2 



t4 THE CUTTER. 

by adepts in the art, as one of the most 
successful. 

2. 

As relatives are not a little obtuse in 
their nerves, and very apt to misunder- 
stand and not receive a cut, it will be 
pften requisite to assist their weak minds, 
with a frowning stare, a significant 
shrug of the shoulders, which will ele- 
vate the cape of your w aistcoat to the 
vicinity of your ears, and, if more be 
neeilful, a smile of the most profound 
contempt. But should they presume 
to speak and stop you, your only means 
of escape is to hear them out, to ra 
sure them all over with a " lack 



THE CUTTER, 75 

eye/ 5 and with a buzzing sort of whistle 
to cross over the way. 

3. 

If at any time you are blamed for cut- 
ting a relation, justify yourself, as fol- 
lows. Say, that he has been a man, 
who has repeatedly disgraced his family 
by a gross inattention to matters of eco- 
nomy, that he gambles, that he keeps 
low company, that he is officious, that 
he has treated you ill, that he is impru- 
dent and ungrateful, that he is ill-tem- 
pered, that he has not a single good qua- 
lity, that he is- — poor. 

4. 
With near relations care should be 



76 THE CUTTi 

takeTi to instil in private such advio 
the following : — " Never expect atten- 
tions, when you are from home ; what 
I have to say to you, can be said there. 
A nod is the kindest mark of affection 
to a relative, because it expresses the 
greatest freedom. Relatives always re- 
quire too much, — times are altered, 
&c. &c." 

5. 

It sometimes happens, when you have 
been at a world of pains to decorate 
your person in the most gentlemanly, 
killing manner possible for some divine 
ball, or rout, to which it has cost you 
many introductions among the Dii mi- 
norum gentium (vulgarly called but- 



THE CUTTER. 77 

lers, lacquies, and waiting-maids), and 
some few odd pounds to gain admit- 
tance, that, just as you have looked in 
the glass for positively the last time, the 
door opens, and pop ! who enters, in 
the very nick of time, but Cousin Bob, 
or Uncle William himself ? Now this is 
very trying and disheartening, and must 
be owing to some awkward conjunction 
of the stars, to the influence of a comet, 
eclipse, or perhaps to your accursed ho- 
roscope lying in the fourth house, which 
Regiomontanus calls the house of families, 
Well ! What's to be done ? He honours 
your drafts, sends you fifty pounds every 
Christmas, and has not a single chick or 
child. Here it is evident, that you 
must have recourse to tire < cut solitary." 



78 THF CUTTER. 

There is a practice well known among 
the zealous agents and committees of 
elections, denominated ' shopping* which 
consists in locking up the more doubtful 
votes, under the sanction of a pendent 
flag, in some commodious inn, or pot- 
house, and drenching them with liquor, 
as they do salmon to keep it fresh, until 
the critical declaration at the hustings 
has arrived. They are then hurried to 
the poll, their ears still tingling with the 
name of their worthy benefactor, in 
whose cause they are now for the first 
time decided. This pleasant operation 
must in some measure be applied lb youf 
uncle William. Sh p him so closely 
and safely at home with you, that the 
world may be as ignorant of your enter- 



TIJE CUTTER. 79 

raining him, as you wish them to be of 
his very existence. Declare to him 
upon your honour, that Dibdin and 
Astley have retired ; that Catalani is in 
the country, teaching Lord Eld-n 
to sing ; that Pidcock's and the Tower 
are become dangerous from the number 
of loose monkies to be seen in them ; 
that the Panoramas are all changing ; 
that there are no automatons going ; 
and that the new pantomime is not yet 
come out. Ply him deeply with ale, 
twelve bushel to the hogshead. Listen 
attentively to his advice, taking care not 
to mention tobacco. Shew him carica- 
tures all the morning : and play two- 
handed whist, better known to him un- 
der the social name of 4 Humbug? during 



80 THE CUTTER. 

the livelong evening. Then delight him 
with an account of a thousand fine 
things, which he might have seen a week 
sooner, or which will charm the whole 
town a fortnight later. Finally, tell 
him, country gentlemen alway mistake 
the season ; but that in future you will 
apprize him ; and after all, as he prefers 
cheap travelling, send him down the 
first fine morning per caravan, with 
speedy to beam a ray of the intelligence, 
which he has acquired, upon the unen- 
lightened West) or, as you may elegantly 
term it, to astonish the natives. 

6. 

Should a relation, who has for some 
time paved his way to your favour b 4 



' 



THE CUTTER, 6i 

presents to your children, ever think of 
troubling you far money, instantly bid 
him do as you have done, study hazard, 
learn politics, seize contrabands, patch 
fiddles, plunder Rajahs, deal in pictures ; 
or, if you would be brief, desire your ser- 
vant to shew him the vestibule : but re- 
member to give him the cut oblique 
ever after, unless he should improve in 
his circumstances, for such an unmerited 
wound to your feelings. 

7. 
In fine, never inquire after your in- 
digent and distressed relations in public, 
and never unnecessarily visit them in 
private. By this means, they will always 
speak well of you, and your company will 

H 



82 THE CUTTER. 

be always in request. Cut them incessant- 
ly, and beware of engaging in concerns 
which will require a frequent intercourse 
with them ; since they may make busi- 
ness a plea for stopping you in the 
streets, and thus you may be seen con- 
voying a brace of patched elbows, to the 
utfer ruin of your character at the west 
end of the town. In every case, there- 
fore, keep them at arm's length, and at 
a chilling distance. Find how their 
credit stands in the world, and frown or 
fawn accordingly. If there is no chance 
of their emerging from obscurity, leave 
them without remorse to their fate, say 
what must be said by cards and notes, 
slander them when you conveniently 
may, be affronted with them without a 
shadow of reason, and, for the future, be 
inexorable in your enmity. 



LECTURE V. 



FIRST LINES FOR THE LADIES. 



LECTURE V- 



It would be an unpardonable omission 
to bring these lectures to a conclusion 
without recommending the Art of Cut- 
ting to the study of the fair sex. Help- 
less and bashful as they are by nature, it 
must be a very desirable acquisition to 
them, to obtain the means of dis- 
heartening the insolent, of rebuffing 
the vulgar, and of evading the obtru- 
sive, in a manner no less accommodat- 
ing and convenient to their feelings, than 
effectual in the practice. And such be* 
h 2 



THE CUTTER. 

nefits cannot fail to accrue to them from 
a proficiency in this art. 

We have been told, that Nature, who 
supplies the bull with horns, the horse 
with hoofs, and the lion with fangs 
conferred beauty on woman, as her shield 
and spear. It is to attract, subdue, or repel, 
as occasion may require By its power 
the violent, the cruel, and the unprin- 
cipled, are either softened or vanquish- 
ed ; and thousands, who are proof against 
mortars and muskets, have by this alone 
been led into an ea^y captivity. But in 
the refined circles of fashionable life, 
:ty, where it occurs, is not so om- 
nipotent in its sway. Here every thing 
which can be possessed by the multitude, 
is contemplated with just abhorence ; 



THE CUTTER, g? 

and other aids, than those of beauty, 
should be called in for the purposes of 
polite intercourse. Besides, in the more 
exalted classes of females, beauty has 
been characterized as a quality of too 
penetrable a nature, to answer all the 
ends of personal defence. At all events, 
it may produce a contrary effect. It 
may allure, rather than abash, rather 
buoy up, then overwhelm, the effron- 
tery of folly and impertinence. To you, 
therefore, ye distinguished fair ones, 
must peculiarly recommend itself an art 
so fashionable, so advantageous. 

The men, you must be convinced, 
are the slaves of caprice and vanity. 
They attach little respect or esteem to 
any thing, which costs them no trouble, 



M8 THB CUTTKR. 

or which moves in the common orbit 
of possession. Like spaniels, they are 
more affectionate for lashing ; and to 
make dotards of them, requires nothing 
more th;m constant and severe disci- 
pline. But volatile and conceited as 
they are, the art of * cutting will place 
in your hands the sceptre of dominion. 
With all your frailty, all vour weakr 
it will enable you to protect yourtel 
when attacked, to redress yourselves, 
when insulted. By its practice, you may 
soften the obdurate, tame the uncivi- 
lized, and bring into bondage the hearts 
of the wild and inconstant. Indeed, it 
is surprising to all, but the initiated, 
what self-importance you may d 
from this art. The men, I mean 



THE CUTTER. 89 

men of the worlds to whom alone we 
can condescend to allude, will discover 
an infinity of graces and attractions in 
you. The flirts and crones of your own 
sex will increase the admiration of the 
men by their pointed envy and malevo- 
lence. By being accessible to few, you 
will become desirable to all. Your dress, 
shall I say your undress^ will be the 
model at Madam Lanchester's ; your 
smiles, your tones, your very gestures, the 
imitation of the crowded purlieus of Co- 
vent Garden : and, whether in the Park, 
the barouche, or the Opera box : , the 
eyes of all will converge to the elegance 
and dignity of your person and manners* 



SO THE CUTTER, 



Should you ever walk the Greets, (be 
not offended at the expression !) as 
custom has assigned the wall to you, 
always adjust your veil on that side of 
your Face which regards the road. In 
bodily deportment, it is necessary, that 
your figure should affect the arc of a 
quadrant of some two yards radius *. 
Your person having this more than up- 
right position, it is requisite, that you 
erect your nose, as if in the act of scent- 
ing the air, with a look partaking of apa- 

* As the fashionable practice of Lecturing ha« 
rendered modern females acquainted with the 
whole round of science, the Author feels no re- 
IllCtance in venturing this expression. 



THE CUTTER. 91 

thy and disdain. Now should any thing 
unpleasant, from which you might pray 
in vain to be delivered, overtake and 
accost you, prepare and effect your re- 
treat in the following manner. With a 
near-sighted corrugation of the nether 
eyelid, look down upon the creature, 
and instantly turning half round on your 
own axis, retrace the steps, which 
brought you into such untoward com- 
pany* 

2. 
In receiving the attentions of a male 
acquaintance, remember to proportion 
your civility to the depth of his neck- 
cloth, the cleanness of his boot-tops, or 



32, THfc CUTTER. 

the number of his seals. Take especial 
care, likewise, that his toes are signifi- 
cantly turned inward in walking, as it 
is meant to betray great skill in riding. 
Let him talk with a smirk about a great 
deal of nothing, avoiding particularly 
that sort of information, which is re- 
served for you in the vale of years. And 
here let me advise you to consider as in- 
dispensable a stare of elegant vacancy, 
which should enliven the intervals of 
your conversation. Now wherever this 
is" overdone, or come tardy off," it will 
be necessary to treat him as a flat and 
a bore. To this end, you must allow 
the dialogue to degenerate gradually 
into a soliloquy on his part ; and when 
your patience is thoroughly exhausted, 



THE CUTTER. 93 

retire with sullen majesty into the first 
shop, that presents you with more fashion- 
able heads of carnation wax beautifully 
attired, taking care to leave him petri- 
fied by a distant " Good morning !" at 
the bottom of the steps. 

3. 
The word <e Sir," with an appropriate 
intonation of the voice, has a wonderful 
effect to chill the forward and impor- 
tunate ; and may be said, when accom- 
panied by a frigid inclination of the head, 
such as is used in giving assent, to 
amount to a c dead cut. 9 A little expe- 
rience will teach you the value of this 
observation. In the mean time, long 
silence, and a careless application to the 



9i THE CUTTER. 

nose of your aromatic vinegar, may 
serve to lessen the attraction of adhe- 
sion subsisting in the most glutinous of 
your friends and intimates. 

4. 

Your connexions in society come 
under one of the following heads, viz. 
relations, friends, ardent admirers (who 
are all within the vortical sphere of mo- 
tion and intercourse,) or a number of 
satellites, called danglers and drivellers. 
But the fame of the Goddess depends 
no less on the number of her votaries, 
than on the magnificence of her temples. 
Many of these last, therefore, may be 
as useful as the former, adding consi- 
derable importance to the system, of 



THE CUTTER. 95 

which you are the centre. The method 
of retaining them, however, with the 
greatest certainty, 1 is as follows. Season 
your condescension with frequent airs of 
superiority ; and when hanging on the 
arm of distinction or nobility, give a 
spur to their usual and monotonous re- 
gards by a stimulating c cut. 9 Affect 
surprise at their familiar gaze ; and ex- 
amine the grounds of their assurance 
through the concavity of your glass. 
After which, you may assume a look of 
contempt, which may eventually subside 
in a laugh with your associates. Do 
not fear their displeasure. They will 
dangle and drivel still, being generally 



-" Milk-Iiver'd men, 



That bear a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs**' 



i 



96 THE CUTTER 



5. 

As nothingcan tend more to strengthen 
the mind, or to confirm the moral prin- 
ciples, than the society of men, it will 
be often incumbent on you to cut a 
number of females, who hang continu- 
ally about you, and who would detract 
from your general admiration, or parti- 
cipate in your fame. This you will 
likewise find necessary from the little 
gratification, which many of them may 
receive from the many sallies of your wit, 
from the boldness of your demeanour, 
and the ea^y and refined assurance of 
your address. To shew these green, 
spotless, and unpolished d the 



THE CUTTER, 9? 

light in which you consider them, you 
may help their infirmities in the follow* 
ing way. In a party of the very plea- 
sant and gentlemanly, direct their at- 
tention to the destined object of your 
contempt ; until their conduct, whisper- 
ings, and ridicule, shall have excited a 
sensible embarrassment in the 6 cuttee/ 
At this critical moment, seize the arm 
of the most finished and enviable, and 
strolling negligently by her, observe 
loud enough to be heard — " Ton my 
soul, the girl's almost tolerable, when 
labouring under a blush !" 

6. 
Nothing, perhaps, is of greater ser- 
vice, or of more universal prevalence in 
12 



THE CUTTER. 

the fashionable world, than a system of 
nerves most delicately strung. By pos- 
sessing, or by affecting to possess, this, 
the general air of your behaviour will 
be doubly graceful, your conversation 
more interesting, and your ■ cuts' 
more abundantly poignant. For instance, 
in liberating yourself from what is called 
the simplicity of a hoyden, or ihe rude 
bluntness of a country beau, only shrink 
from the one, or faint at the other ; 
and you will be justified in 4 cutting* them 
for ever after, which it will be in character 
to do with the most unfeeling calmness 
and indifference. In addition to this, your 
attitudes will become more indolently 
elegant, and the features of your divine 
countenance more exquisitely languish- 



THE CUTTER. 99 

ing : — while invigorating scents of every- 
description may draw attention in the 
application from those, who would be 
heedless of such trifles in the hale and 
boisterous. 

7. 
If yoif should be interrupted in at 
large party during a delightful tete-a- 
tete (where such things are highly gen* 
teel\ by a stick of formality and pre- 
cision, rise instantly from your seat, 
and casting a careless " How do ?" over 
the shoulder most removed from him, 
beg leave to introduce the happy fa- 
vourite to a dear friend ; and imme- 
diately convey him to a retreat less sub- 
ject to intrusion. N. B. Do not be 



JOO THE CUTTER. 

terrified at the malevolent observations, 
which the freedom of your conduct may 
produce. None, but the ignorant and 
phlegmatic, will attach any censure to a 
degree of voluptuous levity, that can- 
not be properly attained by any, who 
are not legitimate inheritors of high 
life. 

8. 
If the plough of old farmer Time, who 
plants, sows, ripens, and digs up the 
universal produce of the earth, shall 
have passed somewhat heavily over the 
surface of your face, much may be done 
in the way of recommencing your at- 
tacks on the other sex by a masked bat- 
tery of paste, and by c cutting' without 



THE CUTTER. 



101 



remorse the whole clan of your cotem- 
poraries. Associate with none of an 
age obove four-and-twenty : become 
excessively sportive : talk of frocks, 
balls, boarding-sohools, and elopements ; 
give to your remarks a smack of ycuth 
and inexperience : smile incessantly, but 
laugh, if it be possible, (and you know 
there is no great reason,) on no occa- 
sion whatever, lest an extravagant dis- 
tention of the lips may expose to view, 
instead of a semicircular range of pearls, 
an irregularly Vandyked set of teeth, with 
a tawdry luxuriance of colouring. In 
pursuing this plan of conduct, you will 
make yourself so superior to those of 
your own age, that you will find it ne- 
cessary to avoid their malignant insults 



102 THE CUTTER. 

by constantly c cutting' them to the quick. 
When any unforeseen disaster brings you 
into their company, attack them obliquely 
by frequent contemptuous glances; disre- 
gard them, as you do those who are older 
than yourself; and when you are asked, 
who they are, you may answer by a con- 
jecture, that they are maiden aunts of 
the old lady of the house. And do not 
forget, when you pass them, to mutter 
pretty audibly of wrinkles, cats, frigbu % 
forty, &c. &c, 

9. 

Beshrew the fool, who would exter- 
minate fans from the region of modern 
splendour, or who would have them 
dwindle into little insignificant baubles* 






THE CUTTER. lOS 

Do you, more wise* Use them in that 
form, which bears a glass at one extre* 
mity. — Nor let your parasols defend you 
only from the sun ; let them likewise 
serve as a check to the curiosity of 
the abject crowd, or to the familiarity 
of the half-bred gentleman. Or, if it 
gives you greater pleasure, let the vulgar 
and uneducated become every day less 
in your eyes through the medium of a 
pendant glass. But on this head, above 
all, let me beseech you to use nothing 
convex, or microscopic. Appearances 
are all that you should consult, and these 
should further receive the colouring of 
the imagination. Whereas by the use 
of these last, you may chance to find 
abaut you an assemblage with which 



104- THE CUTTER. 

you might feel some reluctance to asso- 
ciate j 

" Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops, 

Scambling, out-facing, fashion- mongVing boys, 
That lie, and cog, and flout ; deprave and 

slander, 
Go anticly, and shew outward hideousness, 
And speak of half a dozen dang'rous words, 
How they might hurt their enemies, if they 

durst, 
And this is all ! !" Shakspeare. 



THE END. 






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